


Blood in the Cut

by ConvenientAlias



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Begging, Consent Issues, Dungeon Raoul, Kinktober 2017, Knifeplay, Knives, M/M, Raoul Whump, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 22:52:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12263709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvenientAlias/pseuds/ConvenientAlias
Summary: “If you’ll let me see Christine,” he said. “I’ll do whatever you want.”Erik’s eyes glittered. “Good.”It was then that he brought out the knife.Erik's been holding Raoul prisoner for a month when he offers an odd sort of bargain.





	Blood in the Cut

It had been a month since Erik had locked Raoul up in the Communard’s dungeon. And not a good month for Raoul, certainly. At first when Erik would come to check on him, bring him food and water, he would curse and try to attack him. It never worked. He was chained to the wall and all Erik had to do was stand back and threaten not to bring food anymore.

“You promised Christine to spare my life.”

“Christine would never have to know,” Erik would say. “Besides, do you think she misses you? She is content enough as my wife now, and would scarce care if you were dead.”

Raoul didn’t like to think about that. Instinctively he knew it for a lie, but when he let it sit in his head for a while, he would remember that Christine had always praised Erik despite her fear, and that she had several times been very tired of him, and he himself had always been more of a trouble to her than a help. Then he would remind himself that Christine was terrified of Erik, that she had only agreed to stay with him to save Raoul’s life, and that she loved him very much, more than he deserved. But even such sure knowledge was not much comfort when she was far away and Erik was always there to tell him that he was wrong.

And he could never see Christine. Although he asked Erik time and time again to see her (“What good am I as a threat unless she knows I am your prisoner?”), Erik consistently refused. Until one day, a month into Raoul’s imprisonment, when he made an unexpected proposition.

“I could let you see Christine,” he said.

Raoul stared at him. There had to be a catch to this. “Did she do something to upset you?” he asked. The only reason he could think of that would make Erik relent would be to take Raoul to Christine and then to kill him in front of her.

Erik shook his head. “I do not need to use you as an incentive. As I said, my wife loves me. But I feel sorry for you, trapped in this lonely place. After all, it is not your fault you fell for a woman who belongs to me. Anyone would be in love with her. Truly you are a pitiful man, and I am not without mercy.”

“You seem more reasonable than usual,” Raoul said. He sat forward on the edge of his small cot, chain around his wrist stretched to its limit, feet planted on the stone ground. And he narrowed his eyes.

“I’ll make a bargain with you,” Erik said. His voice was sweetly sonorous, on the edge of song without singing. Gentler than his usual towards Raoul. The voice that had bewitched Christine in the first place. “I’ll let you see Christine if you let me touch you.”

The condition ought to have surprised Raoul. But it was less surprising than the offer Erik had made in the first place. Erik had never shown himself to be merciful towards Raoul, keeping his soft side reserved for Christine and Christine alone, and even with her he could be ruthless. If he had been inclined towards favoring Christine and Raoul’s love, he would have released Raoul or released them both rather than keeping them in this eternal limbo.

And that Erik wanted to touch Raoul…well. Sometimes as he gave Raoul food he would run his hands over Raoul’s chest, and although it was hard to tell his expression or even where he was looking with that mask on, he stared at Raoul whenever he visited with what seemed to be a vast amount of interest. Not to mention that, the first week of Raoul’s imprisonment, he had taken away Raoul’s shirt because he claimed Raoul stank and there was no point in it, and it was easier to bathe him by just dumping a bucket of water over him now. It had seemed flimsy reasoning at the time, and even flimsier with how Erik liked to ogle him afterwards.

So it was not the most surprising of conditions. But, “You expect me to agree to that?”

“Do you intend to refuse?”

Raoul hated himself. Because he didn’t. He didn’t necessarily want that monster’s hands on him, but he had seen it coming for days now, and by now he was so prepared that it would have felt almost anticlimactic not to let Erik have his way. Not to mention if it meant he could see Christine, there was very little he wouldn’t do.

But Erik’s tone of voice, so condescending and dismissive, got to him. It seemed to imply that he wanted this, that he wanted Erik.

“If you’ll let me see Christine,” he said. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

Erik’s eyes glittered. “Good.”

It was then that he brought out the knife.

Raoul immediately scooted backwards to the corner of his cot, pressing his back against the wall and crossing his arms. “What the hell?”

“You said you would let me touch you, monsieur. And do what I want,” Erik said. “Did I mishear you?”

The knife had a length of only three inches, but it glinted clean and bright in the lantern light. Probably sharp—Erik wouldn’t use inferior tools. The chains, for example, had barely any rust on them despite their age.

Raoul swallowed.

Erik’s voice was sweet again. “Perhaps you thought I meant something else?”

“Keep your promise to let me see Christine,” Raoul said. And he returned to the edge of the cot, slowly forced his arms down to his side, and waited.

Erik walked over slowly, measuring each pace that brought him to Raoul’s side. He stopped in front of Raoul and lowered the knife so that it sat on Raoul’s shoulder, light and cold, barely resting its weight. Raoul fought a shiver. He’d been right—it was sharp.

Erik lifted the knife again. With the tip again only whispering at Raoul’s skin, he drew a circle on the back of Raoul’s neck and then around it, reminiscent of a noose. Then he used the flat of the blade to tilt Raoul’s chin up.

With the mask it was always hard to see where Erik was looking, but for once Raoul was able to meet his yellow eyes. They glinted, sharp and hard.

“You’d do anything to see Christine,” Erik said. “But you don’t belong to her.”

Raoul blinked. He had forgotten, for a moment, that Erik even had a voice. And somehow the occasion felt too formal for casual conversation.

“If you belonged to her, she’d take better care of you.” Erik trailed the knife down Raoul’s neck to his collarbone. “I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

For the first time, he cut in. Raoul, despite being on edge, still started at the prick. He jolted forward, which made the knife cut in further than it would have, all the way down to the bone. But Erik didn’t move. He just left the knife in, and blood began to dribble out around the edges.

“She doesn’t belong to you either,” Erik said. “You stupid little boy.”

He cut down, away from the collarbone and through the skin beneath. Blood began to spill from the wound in earnest now and Raoul hissed, trying to stop himself from moaning.

Erik removed the knife. Casually, he took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the blood off.

Raoul pressed a hand to the wound in his collarbone. It was deep, too deep for play. Probably it would need stitches. Erik probably knew how to do those—he was a genius of sorts, after all—but whether he would bother for a man he despised was openly questionable.

“Ready for more, monsieur?” Erik asked. He pulled Raoul’s arm away from the wound, leaving it to bleed freely. His grip on Raoul’s wrist was tight, but he still held the knife loosely. Slowly, he positioned it over the arteries in Raoul’s arm. Cold cold cold.

Raoul tried to twist his wrist away. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what, monsieur?”

“You’ll kill me.” He wished Erik fed him better—then maybe he would have had the strength to escape his grasp, but even with both hands he couldn’t push him off now.

Erik laughed quietly. He took the knife away and let his arms drop to his sides. “Why don’t you ask me to fuck you, monsieur? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Raoul’s eyes widened.

“If you ask me to fuck you,” Erik said, “I won’t let you see Christine. But you’d have more fun, and it would be less dangerous.” He put his hand on the crook of Raoul’s neck. “I told you I was kind, didn’t I? I’ll let you make the choice.”

It probably would hurt less. Erik hadn’t done much yet but he wasn’t being careful not to injure Raoul either, and he still had that glint in his eyes.

“I’d rather you cut me,” Raoul said. His voice shook.

“Loyalty to Christine?” Erik asked. “Or are you afraid of being with a man?”

“I’d rather you cut me,” Raoul repeated. “You said I could make the choice…”

“Well, I’m a man of my word.”

Erik’s hand was still on Raoul’s neck. Shifting his grip to the back of his head, he forced the head down. Quickly, before Raoul could react, he cut a straight, shallow line down the column of Raoul’s spine.

Raoul screamed.

“Are you sure you want this, monsieur?”

Raoul could feel his throat form the word “Yes”, and he could hear himself say it. He pushed against Erik’s hand and Erik let him sit up.

“I’m not sure you do.”

“Yes, I want it.”

Erik rocked back on his heels. He was not that tall, really, when you saw him face to face, but he towered over Raoul sitting. “In that case, you should ask me nicely.”

Bastard. “I want you to cut me. Please cut me.”

Erik held Raoul’s arm still. Gently he rested the knife against the crook of his elbow. “Are you sure?”

“Please. Just do it.”

Erik pressed down, just a little. A single bead of blood formed next to the blade. “Be more specific.”

“Please cut my elbow with your knife. You son of a bitch.”

Erik’s fingers twitched and the knife jolted down viciously. Raoul bit back a yelp. Blood stained bright on his skin. He would need stitched in two places now, and the elbow would be more inconvenient. Always assuming Erik didn’t end up losing his temper and using the knife to gut him instead of playing games.

“Are you satisfied?” Erik asked.

Of course not. Raoul focused. Oh, he was supposed to be the one asking for this. “Yes. It’s lovely.”

“Where else would you like me to cut you?”

“I don’t know. You pick.”

“Well, if you really want me to cut you, shouldn’t you have a preference?”

Demon spawn. “I’d like you to cut my arm again, higher up.” It seemed like a better idea to keep the injuries in one area. There were too many vital organs in his torso, and if Erik started cutting below the waist things could go wrong much too quickly.

“Be more specific.”

Raoul pointed to a spot about halfway up his upper arm. “Here.”

“And you really want me to?”

“Yes. Please.”

Erik balanced the knife over the area. “Say it again. Nicer.”

“Please.” Raoul held back a grimace. The thing was he was beginning to mean it—Erik pausing before the cut unnerved him more than the actual pain, although his other cuts still stung, and the deep one on his collarbone was beginning to burn. Anticipation might not be worse but he hated it more.

“I said nicer,” Erik said. “You say it as if someone is forcing you, and you know I’m not. I offered you a decision after all. Say it to me sweetly, monsieur, so that I may believe you want it.”

Raoul forced a smile. He felt sick. “Please, monsieur, cut me.”

He said it as pleadingly as if he were asking for his release.

Erik cut down quick and harsh. Raoul had expected a horizontal scrape as before but instead he left a vertical slash that went almost to Raoul’s elbow. Still shallow, at least. Raoul was already losing enough blood.

Erik stepped away. Chin in hand, he examined his work.

“Are we done?” Raoul said. Christine would hate to see him like this. But she would be happy to see him regardless, he thought, unless Erik were telling the truth, unless she didn’t actually miss him…

“I think we need one more touch,” Erik said cheerfully. He stepped in close again and with one hand tilted Raoul’s chin up. With the other one he brought the knife to sit right above Raoul’s eye.

“Now, monsieur. Would you like me to cut you again?”

Raoul swallowed.

“Well, monsieur?”

He could see Christine. Erik might be bluffing.

Erik’s hand was steady. The blade was cool against his sweaty face, over the centimeter where its pin-point edge touched skin.

“No.”

Erik lowered the knife and stepped away. “But monsieur, I thought I could do anything to you I wanted.”

It wasn’t worth being blinded. “You cheated.”

“I never made any limitations on my own actions,” Erik said. “Perhaps you made some assumptions, monsieur. You seem to make a lot of those.”

He cleaned the knife again with the handkerchief. “So have you chosen to let me fuck you?”

Raoul tried to keep his voice steady. “I would prefer for you to do neither.”

“I see.”

Sheathing the knife in some inner pocket, Erik grabbed Raoul’s chin, but this time he squeezed, brutally firm. It would leave a bruise, Raoul thought. Always assuming he survived the night. Always assuming…

“Do you think I will do anything you want? Do you think you can back out on a bargain?”

Raoul couldn’t speak because his jaw was being held closed.

Erik let go. “I will be kind this time. But since you did not let me do what I wanted, you will not be seeing Christine.” He scanned Raoul’s body. “I will come back to care for your wounds later. Try not to move too much.”

With a sneer he left.

Raoul found he was trembling, and his head felt light. Blood loss, surely. Erik had found a way to weaken and hurt him with his own consent, and he had done nothing about it. Nothing. But he would not make a bargain with the devil again. It was impossible to believe a word out of Erik’s mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> It's Kinktober 2017. I don't know if I'll be able to participate much but when there's a day (Day Four) where the prompt is both knifeplay and begging, how could I resist?  
> Anyways. This is some E/R of the most fucked up variety, so I hope that's what you like if you came in. Comments and kudos would be much appreciated.


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